The Senior (College Years 4)

“What’s going on, Ava?” Mom says once we’re on the highway that leads into town.

“I’m p-pregnant,” I say, barely able to hold it together. “And I think I’m losing the baby.”

“Oh, Ava.” Her voice cracks and she reaches out to settle her hand on my knee. “Tell me what’s going on.”

I explain how I woke up and what I discovered. She nods, her gaze on the road, her hand still clutching my knee.

“I tried texting and calling Eli but he won’t answer,” I practically wail, banging my head against the seat.

“He’s probably sleeping like your father, though I did wake him up to let him know we were leaving.”

“What did you tell him?” I whip my head in her direction.

“That you aren’t feeling well and I wanted to take you to urgent care.”

I sit there crying for the rest of the drive, unable to speak, my mind full of all the terrible things that could be happening to me right now.

They’re all just…bad. Awful.

“Are you in pain?” she asks as we pull into town and come to a stop at the light. It’s dark outside, the only light from nearby businesses and there’s no one else on the road.

I nod. “Cramps. It hurts.”

She makes a sympathetic noise and I close my eyes, willing Eli to wake up and call me. Text me. If he knew this was happening, he’d be doing everything in his power to get to me. I know he would.

That’s the only thing that reassures me as I suffer through this.

We finally arrive at the urgent care, and Mom makes me wait as she climbs out of the car and comes to the passenger side to help me out. The moment I lift out of the seat, I feel another gush between my legs and I check the seat.

I left a blood stain.

“Oh no,” I say, turning to wipe at it, but Mom grabs my hand, stopping me.

“I’ll take care of it later. Come on,” she says, her voice gentle as she guides me through the sliding double doors.

Mom tells the nurse behind the front desk what’s going on and the nurse’s gaze shifts to me, her eyes going wide as she starts moving quicker. “She looks pale. Did she faint?”

“She did on Thanksgiving.”

“Let’s get her in a wheelchair.”

Mom grips my arm and I lean against her, suddenly tired. Woozy. Someone brings a wheelchair to me and I practically fall into it, my brain blanking for an instant before I’m roused by someone saying my name.

The nurse.

“How far along are you, sweetheart?”

“Six weeks, maybe seven?” I glance up to see my mother watching me with fear on her face, her eyes glassy. I try to reach for her. “I’m sorry, Mom. I meant to tell you.”

“Oh my God, Ava. It’s okay. It’s okay.” She smiles but it’s shaky and that sends me over the edge.

I start crying all over again.

“It’s okay, honey. Come on, let’s get you into an examination room.”

The nurse wheels me in, Mom following beside me. I’m sticky between my legs and I know without a doubt that it’s happening.

I’m losing the baby.